


The Backs Of Our Children

by aquilaofarkham



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Backstory, Childhood, Gen, One Shot, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 20:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12261606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilaofarkham/pseuds/aquilaofarkham
Summary: A one shot divided into three parts - each one detailing a pivotal moment when Trevor, Alucard, and Sypha were children.





	The Backs Of Our Children

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Since we haven't really gotten an in depth look into any of the trio's pasts on the netflix show (yet) I'm just going off my own headcanons for this, feel free to agree or disagree~  
> 2\. I know Sonia Belmont was retconned out of the official canon but she exists in the canon of my heart  
> 3\. I really REALLY wanted to include Grant but because he hasn't been revealed yet and I have no idea if his personality/story is going to be different in the show, I was outta luck :c  
> 4\. I'm not good at writing children so please bear with me here!!

**\--**

**BELMONT**

**\--**

“Trevor, what have you gotten yourself into this time?”

Sonia Belmont stood in the main doorway of the Belmont Estate, staring down at her six-year-old son who looked to be in desperate need of a bath. His trousers bore multiple tears while his shirt (which had just been washed that morning) was covered with dirt stains. But what really concerned her were the fresh scrapes on his cheeks and knees, the bruises on his knuckles, and most worrisome of all, the bloody lip.

Trevor kept his head down, trying to hide his tearful eyes beneath a cascade of messy auburn hair. Right away Sonia knew they weren’t tears of pain but of anger. The most anger a child could muster up.

“Let me guess, they started it.” No response from Trevor. Clenching his small fists, he turned his head to the side, avoiding any sort of eye contact with his mother. Sonia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Trevor Belmont, how many times do we need to talk about this?”

“They’re nothing but liars!” Trevor suddenly blurted out.

“Who?”

“The boys I fought.”

“What were they lying about?” Sonia’s expression softened as she knelt in front of Trevor, who finally let the tears flow.

“They… they were saying bad things about you and father. They said we do… black magic and we’re the real monsters.”

“But you know that’s not true, right?”

“I had to stop them! I won’t let them spread lies about us, mother! It’s not fair…” Trevor’s face quickly turned into a flustered and teary mess. “Belmonts are heroes… we’re not evil. Why can’t people be nice to us?”

“Shh, I know it’s not fair.” Sonia cooed, drawing Trevor into a comforting hug. She rubbed his trembling back while he quietly sniffed and hiccupped. “They just don’t understand, nor do they want to. Not anymore. It’s good you want to defend our family name so… passionately, Trevor. But maybe wait until you gain a few pounds of muscle before you start throwing your fists around.”

“I’m… _*sniff*_ … I’m not weak.”

“I know you’re not. You’re just like your old mother – strong, brave, but a little reckless.” Sonia laughed; at least she could now admit to the last point. “But I have to know… did you win the fight?”

“I think I did.”

“What did you do?”

“I… kicked them. Between their legs. Then ran away.”

“That’s my boy.” Sonia brushed some strands of hair out of her son’s eyes before kissing his forehead. “Now let’s get you cleaned up.” After helping wipe away his tears, Trevor grabbed onto her hand as they walked into the manor.

The old homestead held a certain charm, which was absent from other castles belonging to other great families of Wallachia. Despite their grandness and rich history, Sonia likened them more to mausoleums than homes. The Belmont Estate was once known as a safe haven with its warmth, light, and noble owners who acted as protectors; ruthless to their enemies but kind to the people they defended.

Yet after a while, around the time when the newest Belmont was born, people stopped visiting the large stone and wood manor – travelers and villagers alike. Friends, even the close ones, became awkward acquaintances who then became strangers. Sonia tried not to dwell on it too much; she had other things to lose sleep over. Hopefully the rumours would stay as just that – rumours. Harmless and untrue.

As they walked down the halls, Trevor stared up with intense curiosity at all the different portraits they passed by. Each one was painted with such detail, majesty, and lifelikeness, Trevor almost felt intimidated. However, only one stood out to him the most – a young man who looked just like his mother with golden hair, surrounded by a heavenly light, holding a strange weapon he didn’t recognize. Trevor knew the man must have been a Belmont, but what did he do? How did he earn his place in the House of Belmont? What sort of monsters did he slay?

Eventually, Sonia led him to the kitchen where she dipped a piece of cloth in water and helped clean his face. “There we are. Much better. Does it still hurt?”

Trevor shook his head. “Mother… what is that painting in the hall?”

“Which painting?”

“The one of the man that looks like you. He has yellow hair and is holding a rope.”

Sonia furrowed her brow before realizing what Trevor was referring to. He was always a fast learner, discovering the true purpose of the Belmont Family all on his own just before turning five. Yet she still argued with herself, wondering about the right moment. Debating on when she would explain why exactly the Belmonts had been neck deep in their dark business for centuries – how it all started. Perhaps that time had come sooner than expected.

“Come. I have something to show you.” Taking Sonia’s hand, Trevor once again followed her out into the main hallway. They arrived at the library and study room, another place that overwhelmed yet excited Trevor. He was always told not to touch any of the books, unless with an adult, as each one was older and more easily damaged than the last. Trevor also ignored that warning every time he entered the library by himself, confident he would be gentle with them.

While Sonia searched the lofty shelves, a different painting caught Trevor’s eye. Right above the fireplace hung the very same Belmont seconds away from slaying a humanlike creature with fire red hair, claw-like fingernails, sharp fangs, and a look of uncontrollable bloodlust in his eyes. The young Belmont’s initial intimidation turned into pure awe.

“Here we are.” Trevor was brought out of his daze once Sonia found the correct switch. Carefully, she grabbed hold of two shelves and pulled them open, revealing a hidden compartment right behind the books. Trevor’s jaw dropped as he stared up at a wall covered with every weapon imaginable – stakes, swords, knives, axes, and yes, the rope-like object.

“Did you use all of this, mother?” Trevor asked, inching closer and closer towards the display. Sonia, knowing how much he wanted to touch everything, kept him at a safe distance.

“Not all of it. This particular collection is very old; they’re more mementos than effective weaponry. However, I am very familiar with this…” Reaching up, she grabbed the encircled rope off the wall and allowed Trevor to get a closer look. He could now see the Belmont crest on its handle.

“This is a whip, but we have always called it the Vampire Killer. With this, you can destroy any vampire, demon, or monster that crosses your path.”

“You used this?”

“I did. Frequently. So did your grandparents, your great-grandparents, and so on.” Sonia sat herself down in one of lounge chairs, signaling for Trevor to sit down as well. “The very first Belmont to ever use the Vampire Killer was a man named Leon Belmont.”

“Is he the man in the paintings?”

Sonia nodded. “He lived hundreds of years ago as a knight but abandoned that life to save his fiancée Sara Trantoul who was kidnapped by the vampire Walter Bernhard. Leon rescued her but arrived too late. Sara had been bitten by Walter and would soon become a vampire like him. By sacrificing herself before she could fully turn, her soul entered the whip, making it stronger and far more powerful than when it was created.”

Trevor stared down at the Vampire Killer before glancing towards the painting of Leon, wondering if he was battling the very same Walter Bernhard. “Did Leon defeat Walter?”

“He did, but Leon lost his best friend Mathias Cronqvist, who had also become a vampire.”

“That’s horrible…”

“Yes but unlike Sara, Mathias became a monster by choice.”

“What?” Trevor exclaimed. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Some say he was selfish and power hungry. Others say it was a deep hatred for humanity and God that forced Mathias to condemn himself. But one thing is certain, when Leon discovered the truth; he made a solemn oath. From that moment on, the Belmont family would always fight evil and hunt down the creatures of the night.”

“Forever?”

Sonia gave Trevor’s seemingly simple question some thought. “For as long as possible.”

“What happened to Mathias? Leon fought and killed him, right? Just like Walter?”

“… after that night, Leon never saw Mathias. He swore that one day, his bloodline would destroy the man he once called friend, but the two never confronted each other again. Eventually, Mathias disappeared. Some say he changed his identity and took on the name Vlad Dracula Tepes.”

Trevor nearly jumped off the chair and onto his feet. “If he’s still alive, we need to find him and destroy him once and for all!”

Sonia sighed, admiring her son’s determination at such at such young age. “Believe me, Trevor, I have tried. As have other Belmonts before me. But Mathias… or perhaps I should say Dracula, has always managed to elude us. His castle is nothing like anything in this world; it moves from place to place at will, shifting and changing. Very few have managed to catch a glimpse of what’s inside. And lived to tell the tale.”

Trevor turned his gaze to the floor. Sensing his disappointment, Sonia offered the whip to him. He raised his head, the look of unbridled excitement returning to his eyes, and asked if it was really all right to hold it. Sonia replied with a nod. Moving slowly, Trevor took the whip and held it as though it were made of glass.

Sonia observed closely as her son handled the weapon; it reminded her of when she was first introduced to the Vampire Killer. She thought it was going to be something grander like a sword or staff – anything but a simple whip. Then as Sonia took it, noticing how light yet also weighty it felt in her hands, she understood its importance.

Yet after years of using it, she began to wonder not out of defeat or exhaustion, but out of mere curiosity. _When will the Vampire Killer finally be put to rest? Will that day ever come? When will the Belmonts stop putting the fate of Wallachia on the backs of their children?_

“When will I get to use it, mother?”

“Soon.” She replied, tousling his hair. Maybe the answers to Sonia’s questions would never come. Not in her lifetime at least. “Your father and I will teach you. Just be patient.”

 

**\--**

**TEPES**

**\--**

The library was the perfect location for their game. Like the castle itself, it seemed to have a mind of its own. As though it were constructed from the flesh and blood of a living being. The towering bookshelves moved about at their pleasure, transforming each floor into an elaborate maze. It made a simple game of hide and seek into something far more interesting. Adrian was never frightened of the many apparitions as they phased in and out like passing strangers. He found them to be rather sad, much like the other creatures the young prince had to share his second home with.

But he had more important things on his five-year-old mind. For example, how was he going to outsmart his father yet again?

“Now where could that little bat have flown off to?” Upon hearing a familiar voice echo throughout the library, Adrian quietly giggled. He set off as fast as he could down the aisle where he was hiding as what used to be a dead end shifted into a whole other path. The library, and its inhabitants, enjoyed doing this, especially when Adrian was playing within its walls. It was a strange yet not at all unwelcome change. Out of all the sounds resonating throughout the castle, every ghostly moan, shriek, and whisper, no one ever thought they would hear the laughter of a child.

As the cloaked figure slowly glided his way down each step, Adrian tucked himself into the lower shelf of a sturdy bookcase, the empty space fitting his small body perfectly. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” The chaser announced using the best pretend menacing voice he could devise. Adrian carefully peeked around the corner to see the figure still searching about. Even from behind, he was quite the unnerving sight – intensely broad shoulders covered by a pitch-black cape, his facial features somewhat obscured by a large red collar, and a height that reached well over 6 feet.

Adrian remembered there was nothing to fear. His mother always told him that and she knew better than anybody. While the figure still had his back turned to him, the prince crawled over to a new hiding spot.

“You cannot elude me forever, little one.” He said this with such confidence during all of their games and yet, he was proven wrong nearly every time. Then again, he never let his true skills show. Adrian remained the reigning champion because he let him. Was the lord missing the point of the game? Perhaps, but it was his little white lie. He didn’t mind playing the loser, as long as his son was the winner.

After looking around some more, the older vampire let out a defeated sigh. “Once again, I have been bested. I suppose that little bat will remain trapped in here for all eternity.”

Adrian could no longer contain his giddy laughter as he abandoned his hiding place and ran towards his father. “I’m here, papa!” He exclaimed, hugging him from behind. “I’m right here! I win again!”

Vlad Tepes turned around but just as he did so, Adrian quickly ducked underneath his cloak, disappearing from sight. Usually, the game would be over by now. The vampire lord decided to play for a little while longer. “Well, this is problematic. I can hear your voice, yet your body is nowhere to be found.” With every step he took, Adrian shuffled behind him, still in hiding, though his constant giggles kept giving him away.

“Let’s see. If I were a mischievous child, where would I hide myself?” Vlad asked, stroking his chin in an exaggerated fashion. “Perhaps… right under here!” Flourishing his cloak in a single dramatic movement, Adrian was revealed holding onto his father’s leg with a large smile on his face. “Thought you could keep hiding, did you?” As Adrian continued laughing, Vlad scooped him up into his arms.

“My lord, I realize the importance of lively games for the young prince…” A different voice within the library spoke. Both father and son looked up to see a much older man peer down from the second floor. Beneath his long white beard and wrinkled eyes they noticed a rather irritated expression on the man’s face. “But this is still a library and some of us would prefer that it stayed that way.”

Adrian’s smile faded as he turned his gaze to the floor. “Sorry, Master Librarian.” He said in a bashful tone.

“Really, old friend.” Vlad began, resting Adrian on his hip. “You have never been the type to follow rules of any sort.”

“In my youth, Tepes. A long time ago, in my youth.”

“Then of course you would know how crucial it is for someone like my son to have as much freedom as he can before he is burdened by the throes of adulthood.”

“You spoil him far too much…” A fourth voice echoed throughout the library. “But my husband does make a fair point, Librarian.” As Vlad turned around, Adrian saw who it was and immediately jumped out of his father’s arms.

“Mama!” He exclaimed, running towards the woman with the same golden hair and bright eyes as his own.

“Good day, my lady.” The Master Librarian called out. “I trust your stay in the castle has been pleasant.”

“Good day to you as well. Or… night, I suppose. And for the hundredth time, _Lisa_ will do just fine.” She added with a chuckle. While Adrian kept a firm grip on her skirt, she turned to Vlad who gave her one of his subtle yet courteous smiles.

“I thought you were resting.” He said gently, walking towards her.

“How could I when you two are having so much fun?” Lisa replied, planting a kiss upon the lord’s cheek. Adrian averted his eyes, sticking his tongue out comically. “Besides, I find spending the last few hours with my family before the sun rises far more enjoyable.”

“I did not realize how soon the morning is…” The tone in Vlad’s voice had become almost melancholic.

“Do we have to go back, mama?”

“I am afraid so, my little bat.” Lisa did not use the word “afraid” lightly; she didn’t know which she feared more – the journey back to their cottage in Targoviste or the city itself. While Adrian’s main concerns were hunger, tiredness, and his feet hurting, Lisa thought about the growing rumours. She used to ignore them; petty and superstitious gossip, that’s all it was. Then came Adrian and her priorities quickly shifted.

_God have mercy on them if they lay a hand on my son._

“But we’re not leaving your father just yet.”

“Can papa come live with us? Can we live here with him? Please, mama?”

“Well…” Lisa looked up at Vlad. He seemed to be deep in thought, considering Adrian’s questions very carefully.

“Perhaps one day this old place will be put to rest.”

“Papa… will you come live with us?” Adrian asked, wide-eyed. Vlad smiled as he tousled his son’s head of golden curls. It always amazed him how much he resembled his mother.

“I would like nothing more in the world.” Years ago, Lisa told her husband that he should consider traveling like men do. Maybe some day he would. For now though, it was time to learn how to live with a family of his own.

Like men do.

 

**\--**

**BELNADES**

**\--**

Sypha didn’t mind traveling. She always marveled at every mountain pass her caravan came across, enjoyed meeting new people while on the road, and stared in wonder at the starry night skies when everyone else fell asleep after the campfires burned out. There were already a multitude of legends to go with each constellation, but she made up her own anyway. She loved pretending to be a great storyteller like her grandfather and other elder Speakers that came before him. Despite her sore feet and tiredness, nearly every day felt like a brand new adventure for the newly turned six-year-old.

Yet every once in a while, Sypha would grow attached to a temporary home. One she hoped they would never leave. Sometimes it was a place deep in the woods or a sanctuary in a city like Bucuresti. This time, her caravan settled on a wide-open field with a few neighbouring farms off in the distance. For the past couple of days they had been blessed with sun, clear skies, and a cool yet comfortable breeze.

Sypha wanted to stay forever. Even when she realized how close winter was, with its dreary grey clouds, bitter winds, and snow that buried her feet and ankles, she still did not want to leave. But she knew she would have to. They all would.

Thinking about the prospect of leaving put a damper on Sypha’s otherwise pleasant mood; something she had managed to keep in tact for quite some time now. To cheer herself up, she strayed away from her mother, father, and grandfather, bounding down the hill and further into the field. She perfected her cartwheels then moved onto collecting wildflowers when that tired her out.

“Sypha!” Her mother called out. “Stay where I can see you.”

“Yes, mama!” With her arms full of flowers, Sypha trudged back up the hill until she found a comfortable grassy area. She sat down and crossed her legs, dropping what she found in her lap.

Making a crown of wildflowers and grass was a frustrating endeavor, but at least Sypha wasn’t bored. She kept trying, and failing, and trying again all while glancing over her shoulder to see if her mother was still watching over her. _How do the girls in Bucuresti and Targoviste do it?_ Sypha asked herself, unmotivated to keep going.

She tossed the half made crown off to the side, settling for two long pieces of grass to which the young Speaker began braiding together. Much easier – perhaps a bit too easy as Sypha could feel herself dozing off. Yet her fingers kept moving, intertwining each blade with each other. Her eyelids felt heavier and heavier with every passing second. Something didn’t seem quite right as a strange numbness came over her hands, but Sypha could barely keep herself fully conscious to notice.

Then in a sudden burst of energy, her eyes bolted open. Spread across both palms was the piece of braided grass, finished within what felt like a matter of seconds, but that didn't shock Sypha. Surrounding her hands was something she couldn’t explain or understand – a light, no, a thin blue aura covering every inch of skin from her fingertips to her wrists.

Fear was the first thing Sypha felt, yet before she could scream or shed a single horrified tear she took a closer look. There was no pain, not even the slightest bit of discomfort. The aura didn’t burn her skin, nor did it leave any sort of blemish. Fear turned into confusion, then to curiosity, and finally to wonder. Sypha was very familiar with bedtime stories of magic, mages, and scholars of the mystic arts. But she had always known them to be just that – tall tales to be read to little girls before they go to bed. Was she dreaming? Or was this vision simply a product of her overactive imagination? If so, then why did it feel so real?

“Mama!” Sypha shouted, her voice shaky with eagerness. “Mama, come! Look at what I can do!” She continually called out to her mother until she gave in. Leaving her husband and father, Lady Belnades joined her daughter on the soft patch of grass.

“Mama, look! Look!”

“Calm down, my dear, I’m look-“ As Sypha revealed her hands, the same expression of shock appeared on her mother’s face. She almost wanted to reach forward and take her daughter’s hand in her own but pulled back, remaining cautious.

“It doesn’t hurt, mama.”

“How… how are you doing this?”

“I don’t know. I just closed my eyes and it happened.” Seeing her mother’s reaction, Sypha didn’t feel as excited about her newfound skill as she did before. Instead she felt withdrawn, maybe even a bit ashamed. She began to regret her decision to show anyone, even her own mother. While the aura continued to shine, transforming the discarded pile of flowers and grass into a perfect crown, Sypha could feel the first few tears run down her flustered cheeks.

“Mama… did I do something bad?”

Lady Belnades saw her daughter weep and quickly pulled her into a tight hug, on the verge of tears herself. “Of course not, my love. You did something wonderful. So wonderful, and I am so proud of you.” Pulling back, she gently held Sypha’s wrists and watched in awe as the aura shifted into a ball of light that sat perfectly in her daughter’s open palms. She couldn’t recall the last time a Speaker, especially one as young as Sypha, showed so much promise in the mystic arts.

“Now you must be careful.” Lady Belnades added, closing Sypha’s hands. “Practice and study, but remember to only do it in the presence of those you trust.”

“Why, mama?”

“Because… this is a very special gift you have, Sypha. But not everyone will think that. People are more fearful of the unknown than ever before.”

“Can I show other Speakers?”

“Yes, of course. When you feel ready. For now, learn about this gift of yours as much as you can and use it for good. Can you do that for me?”

Sypha wiped her eyes and nodded, managing a hopeful smile. Lady Belnades smiled in return before kissing the top of her daughter’s forehead. “Let’s go tell your grandfather. Maybe he will have some advice for you.”

Placing the flower crown on Sypha’s head, Lady Belnades held her small hand as they made their way back up the hill, unsure yet oddly optimistic about the future.


End file.
